


Tribute

by ThirteenRedVampireBites



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bring Out The Tissues, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, International Space Station, M/M, Minor Character Death, Outer Space, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01, Sad and Happy, Wakes & Funerals, probably, you will cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27539710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirteenRedVampireBites/pseuds/ThirteenRedVampireBites
Summary: Grace takes that final call. Sacrifices are acknowledged.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Grace Ryder/Judd Ryder (9-1-1 Lone Star), Original Characters/Original Characters
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	Tribute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly/gifts), [nilshki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilshki/gifts).



> This is for Melo and Nilshki, who have been waiting ~~patiently~~ for 7 months for this fic to be finished. The finale messed me up, as you can tell, so I needed to write this out, and here I am. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.  
> ~Kael

When the call ended to the sound of Melissa Scanlon’s sobs and young Evie’s increasingly worried questions to her mother and calls for her father, Grace ripped her headset off, setting it on her desk. A sob escaped before she could suppress it, and she reached up to cover her face with her hands, hiding the image of the flashing red indicator of _Call Ended_ on her screens. She could hear the bustle continue on around her, but it was almost like she was in a bubble for a moment, everything muffled except for the echoing silence that looped through her mind and had since Commander Tom Scanlon stopped speaking.

The bubble was popped by the arrival of both Zach and Elliot. Zach had rounded from his own station, coming to kneel at her right, while Elliot arrived from upstairs, taking up the position to her left. Only the whisper of fabric warned her of their arrival before hands dropped to her shoulder and knee.

“Grace?” Elliot asked quietly.

“They’re gone,” Grace responded, swiping her wrists against her eyes.

“Who is?” Zach questioned.

“The entire crew of the International Space Station,” Grace answered, reaching over for a tissue. “Acute Radiation Poisoning from the surge. They took a direct and unexpected hit, there was nothing to be done.” She motioned to the screen with her free hand as she wiped her eyes with the tissue. “Commander Tom Scanlon was redirected here from Houston with the last pulse. He got to talk to his wife and little girl one last time.” Another few tears trickled down her face, ending up caught by the tissue as she wiped her skin a final time.

Elliot knew immediately what she’d want and grabbed his tablet from the desk. He quickly put in a request for a USB drive to be brought to Grace’s station and that all calls be routed elsewhere until she was finished. When the requested device arrived, one of the USBs printed with the call center’s logo, Elliot set it on her desk and rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You finish this, then go home, Grace,” he told her, patting her shoulder before rushing away to another of the operators having an issue.

“Is there anything you need, Grace?” Zach asked, pushing up to his feet.

“Could you—Could you get this started? I need—” Grace paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “I need to get a cup of tea.”

“Of course, I can,” Zach agreed, steadying her as she rose from the chair. He squeezed her hand lightly before letting go and dropping into her seat. “Take as long as you need,” he assured her, slipping his headset from his pocket and connecting it to her station.

Grace slipped away listlessly to the breakroom to make herself a cup of tea in her largest cup. She had a feeling she was going to need the fluids, especially as she could already feel the dehydration headache beginning to set in. Staring blankly at the kettle as the water inside boiled, she rested her head on her arms and waited.

\---

Grace will return to her station after making her tea, taking her place in the seat after Zach vacates it for his own station to get back to work. She will set her cup down on the coaster before, after taking a deep breath, she will take up her headset again and settle in to get that call saved to the USB sticking out of the port.

The process will take her almost an hour, even though it was only a short almost-three-minute call. She won’t be able to help but listen to the call several times as she makes sure that everything, from the moment he first made it through to her to the end as Evie and Tom exchange their last goodbyes, ends up in the file without the extra and heart-wrenching silence afterwards. She also has to take several breaks, getting up from her seat to pace to the end of the room and back before continuing, each time listening through just as soul tearing as that live call had been.

She will finish, saving it all before doing one last check to make sure that everything is in proper order. With closed eyes to just listen, she will listen one last time before processing the USB out of the computer. She will sign herself out before heading to the supervisor’s office.

Elliot has left her an envelope and a pen. She quickly writes out _Melissa and Evie Scanlon_ on the outside before slipping the USB inside. As she sets the pen back on the desk, Elliot comes into the room. He opens the small safe in the wall, and she sets the envelope inside. She isn’t ready to send it off just yet. There’s a letter that needs to go with that audio file.

She watches the door close and hears the lock engage before she leaves the office and goes to gather her things. She’s going home, home to change out of her uniform and into her comfiest sweater.

As she exits the building, bright green catches her eye, and she looks up to find one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. An aurora has taken over the sky, unnatural for Texas, but a side effect of the surge that has seen dozens of people dead or injured. A shaky breath will leave her before she gets into her car and heads home.

At home, Grace moves through the rooms without even trying to turn any lights on. She sets her purse on the table near the door, laying her jacket with it before heading for the bedroom. Sluggishly she’ll get out of her uniform and change into comfort clothes before leaving the room, heading for the screen door and going outside to sit on the picnic table on the patio.

An hour later, her husband will arrive home and notice the open door. He’ll come out to greet her and they’ll have a conversation about beauty from chaos and her ability to comfort those hurt or hurting. Silence will come over them as they stare up at the lights for another few hours.

\---

The next morning, with Grace still asleep next to him, Judd texted every member of Firehouse 126.

_[Judd] (6:10AM): Everyone up for a Texas breakfast?_

_[Marjan] (6:11AM): What does that even mean?_

_[Mateo] (6:11AM): Taquitos! Churros! Griddlecakes! Count me in!_

_[Paul] (6:12AM): Since I don’t have to cook: Hell yes!_

_[Cap] (6:15AM): I suppose one early cheat day won’t hurt…_

When there was no message from TK, Judd sighed quietly before messaging the younger man directly.

_[Judd] (6:20AM): You and Hot Cop both better be at breakfast, squirt._

_[Lil Bro] (6:21AM): Sure? We’ll be there._

_[Judd] (6:22AM): Good._

Judd set his phone down before getting up. Today was going to be a busy day. Emergency shifts always were.

Almost an hour later, Judd was putting the finishing touches on the handmade parts of his breakfast when the others arrived noisily. Marjan and Paul were talking about some movie they’d seen recently with Mateo asking questions. Owen arrived near silently, only noticed because he immediately went to the coffee machine. A few minutes later saw the arrival of a sling-bound TK and Carlos just behind him, neither dressed for work.

“A sling, TK?” Owen questioned huskily, half-asleep without at least his first cup of coffee and he usually had it at the Firehouse instead of at home since the Firehouse had the better machine.

“Doctor recommended it,” TK shrugged his good shoulder. “You know, to keep me from trying to do anything else that might tear open my stitches again.”

Judd chortled quietly as he flipped the last griddlecake one final time. “Mm, I think other than Carlos handcuffing you to the bed, it might be the only way.”

TK stuck his tongue out at the older man as he dropped down onto a stool at the island for a moment, taking a full cup of coffee from his Dad. He grinned into the cup when Carlos flopped against his chest with a sleepy grunt, the Police officer looking like a disgruntled puppy at being awake so early on his day off. Wrapping his bound arm around Carlos’ back, TK leaned back against the counter.

“Grub’s up,” Judd announced, turning off the stove and setting the last griddlecake on the plate he’d pulled out of the oven.

“Alright everyone, to the table,” Owen ushered, sounding more awake now that he had a cup of coffee in him. He briefly patted Carlos’ back as he passed, startling the younger man out of his doze.

“Come on, babe,” TK murmured, gently nudging the other man upright before he dropped off the stool. He took Carlos’ hand and tugged him to adjacent chairs to sit down, shoving the still half-asleep Police Officer into one chair before settling into the next one.

“So, what’s with the all-hands-on deck?” Mateo asked after a moment as he forked a pair of griddlecakes onto his plate.

Judd tapped his fork on the placemat idly as he tried to put it all into words. The others waited for him to get it all together, silently passing dishes back and forth until Judd spoke.

“It won’t be in the news yet, especially with everything still all screwed up,” Judd started, taking the griddlecakes from Paul, “but the worst casualties weren’t here in the South.” He put three onto his plate before setting the serving plate on the hotpot in the middle of the table. “The entire crew of the ISS took a full blast of solar energy. All of ‘em gone in a few hours.”

Several murmuring interjections left various members of the team. Marjan murmured for a few moments more, obviously saying a prayer even if the others didn’t understand what exactly she was saying.

“What did you have in mind, Judd?” Owen asked before taking a bite of one of his tacos.

“A mural on the outside? Our building’s pretty bleak, and what’s the use of brightening the inside if we ain’t gonna do the outside?” Judd replied with a shrug.

Carlos perked up at the words, finishing his chewing before adding, “I know just the people, if it’s something you wanna go for, Captain Strand.”

Owen blinked at his plate for a moment before nodding, “It sounds like a good idea.” He picked up his fork, pointing it at Carlos, “We’ve talked about this, Carlos, it’s Owen unless we’re on the job. And I wanna talk with the artists before we go painting anything. Gotta make sure it’s not going to be something that’ll get the Chief down here.” He groaned almost immediately after, “Means I’m going to have to speak with the Chief for permission.”

TK smirked at his father, “Good luck with that, Dad. Isn’t your monthly meeting with the Chief this week anyway?” Owen puffed his cheeks at TK, his mouth full of food. TK snorted at him before taking a sip from his glass.

“Alright,” Owen commented after he’d swallowed, “Y’all can come up with ideas, and we’ll get the artists to take a look when they get down here, but for now—” He was interrupted by the alarm going off, to the groans of everyone in the room.

TK shoved the last bite of his taco into his mouth, waving the others off. He patted Mateo on the back when the younger man hugged him as the others rushed out of the room, Marjan briefly rounding the table to kiss his cheek before she took off. Finishing chewing, TK pushed back from the table before beginning the clean up with one hand, stacking empty dishes all together and quietly reminding himself who had been sitting where to make sure they got the rest of their breakfasts.

Carlos, finished his own breakfast and having two hands, grabbed the stacks of dishes and headed into the kitchen, filling the dishwasher with the plates and cutlery.

\---

“And that concludes the regular part of our monthly meeting,” Chief Martinez announced as he set the papers to the side and looked down the conference table to where Owen was sitting at the end. “Captain Strand, you had something you wanted to bring up?”

“Got a request to run by you,” Owen started, continuing when the man nodded for him to continue, “My team and I would like to have a mural put up on the outside of the 126.”

“A mural?” Chief Martinez asked. “Of what exactly?”

“Lieutenant Ryder’s wife spoke with the Late Commander Tom Scanlon of the International Space Station during the solar storm,” Owen explained, tapping his pen against the table, “He suggested a mural as a tribute and I thought that would be a good idea.”

“I’ll speak to the Mayor,” Chief Martinez told him, making a quick note on the pad of paper in front of him. “I’m sure he’ll agree. I’ll let you know when I have the answer.”

“Thank you, sir,” Owen replied, dipping his head. He sat back in his seat and listened to the end of the meeting in silence.

Four hours after the meeting, a simple email on the official letterhead arrived in his inbox. He wouldn’t get to see it for another hour, but basically all it said was _Go ahead._

\---

A few days later found Marjan knocking on the door to Owen’s office, interrupting him while he caught up on paperwork. He looked up at the knock and she grinned at him, “Carlos is here with the artists, you got time?”

Owen set his papers aside, “Absolutely, send them in.”

They were young was Owen’s first thought when Carlos stepped inside with the two artists behind him. The girl was maybe 17? Pretty in the way that all girls are now. The young man was maybe Carlos and TK’s age, but probably closer to Mateo’s, and if it weren’t for the difference in ages, the two could almost pass for twins.

“This is Maisie and Lukas Pernaski,” Carlos introduced as Owen stood from his chair and held out a hand.

“Welcome, please sit,” Owen motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. He motioned to the extra chair against the glass, “Carlos, you might as well pull up the other one.”

“Yes, s—Owen,” he agreed, sheepishly changing what he was about to say when the older man narrowed his eyes at him.

“How long have you been doing murals?” Owen asked as he dug through his desk for the folder of ideas that they’d come up with.

Maisie flushed a bit as she answered, “Four years.”

Grinning slightly, Owen couldn’t help teasing like any Dad, “Does it explain how you know Officer Reyes, Miss Maisie?”

Carlos laughed and nodded but motioned for Maisie to explain. She rolled her eyes but did explain, “After our parents died, I may have started hanging around with some not so great people. After a year though, I broke off from being around them, but I still enjoyed the tagging and painting, so I was kinda doing it everywhere. I heard on the news about a women’s shelter downtown, and I decided to paint a mural there. It was pretty, and the shelter kept it. I did similar murals on other places and that’s how I got the moniker ‘Tribute Tagger’ from the media. Officer Reyes caught me a couple times, but since I was a minor…”

“He let you go with a warning and took you home,” Owen finished, understanding what she was saying. He turned to Lukas, “And how do you fit into this?”

“Art is my profession,” Lukas responded with a shrug. “I do business decals and commissions. I also do calligraphy, so I help with the words sometimes.”

“Officer Reyes didn’t explain what you wanted a mural of, so what exactly are you asking for, Captain Strand?” Maisie asked.

“First, let’s go show you your canvas so you know whether you want to say yes to the job or not,” Owen suggested, pushing his chair back and standing, taking the folder in his hands. He led the way out of the office and then out of the building, moving out onto the sidewalk next to the blank wall. He motioned to the blank expanse of wall before him, “This is what you’d be painting.”

Maisie went over to the wall and ran her hand over the brickwork. “It’s smooth enough, I suppose…” she mused as she ran her hands over the wall. “And it’s big enough that it will take us a few weeks working around the clock…”

“What did you have in mind, Captain Strand?” Lukas asked, looking up at the wall. He addressed his sister with the next bit, “It would take some scaffolding and the sidewalk blocked off, and gallons of paint.”

Owen handed over the folder to Lukas and waited for him to open it. Inside was a collection of pages, some drawings, some lists, a couple of collages, but there was something from every member of the firehouse.

“Maize,” Lukas called her over, flipping through the pages. She scooted between his arms so they could both see, Lukas dropping his chin to the top of her head.

“Why exactly do you want us to paint something for the ISS?” Maisie asked, putting her hand over one page to stop Lukas from flipping some more.

“It won’t be in the news for another week, I assume,” Owen admitted, looking up at the blank expanse of wall, “But all six astronauts on the ISS during the solar storm died. They took a direct blast of the energy and got acute radiation poisoning. If you met Judd on your way in, his wife is a member of our Dispatch center, and she was rerouted a call from Commander Tom Scanlon who was filling the Exodus Protocols with Houston. It’ll obviously take some time for NASA to get things ready for a recovery mission and then for their bodies to be returned to the States, but thanks to their warnings, even as scrambled and jumbled as they became, the crew on the ISS saved a lot of people, and they deserve a fitting tribute for their sacrifice. And a reminder for the rest of us that our lives came at the cost of some of the bravest men and women that the world has seen.”

Maisie looked up at her brother before nodding quickly, “We’ll do it Captain Strand.”

“I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other until you’re finished,” Owen mused, “You may as well call me Owen.”

\---

It took months for everything to turn out.

Maisie and Lukas worked alternating shifts on the mural; Lukas showing up early in the morning, often with the shift change and being invited in for breakfast, while Maisie took the afternoons, coming after school and staying for dinner until dark when she could no longer work. On the weekends, both would show up early in the morning, joining whatever shift was on for breakfast (in one instance, cooking breakfast for the House when they were out on a call upon the Pernaskis arrival for the day) before going to work.

It took the news almost a month to get back on track, and the first story to air once everything was fixed was of the destruction wrought by the solar storm, from deaths to injuries to damage, everything but the loss from the ISS. It was another few weeks before a press conference was called at the Houston centre, NASA coming out in full to announce the loss and their plans to retrieve the bodies for burial and proper funerals.

The 126 watched the press conference on the big screen in the firehouse, recording the end when they’re interrupted by a call. By the end of the year, NASA promises, by the end of the year they will be home.

\---

Owen received the news three days after Valentine’s Day in an email from the Chief that initially sent his heart racing when he read the words, _out of rotation_. Then he read the email again.

_The 126 will be among those out of rotation for the week of March 29 th for their attendance and participation in the Honor Guard of the funeral services of the ISS Astronauts on April 1st. _

He quickly finished reading through the email, slumping in his seat. “It’s decided,” he murmured.

“What’s decided?” he jolted at the sound of Michelle’s voice, looking at her over his computer screen.

“The one-two-six is out for the funeral, first of April.”

Michelle’s hands dropped to her sides, the folder in her hand fluttering at the motion. “I’m glad those families get the closure.”

“Me too.”

Five weeks later, they were shifting out for the last time. They’d be back in the morning with their bags to clear out the trucks and the ambulance for the trip to Houston. Carlos and his partner, Adele would meet them at the firehouse with their own gear, including their squad car.

Grace was bringing Judd’s truck for any bags that didn’t fit into the trucks, and she’d follow behind them with Marjan as her passenger to keep her company at Judd’s suggestion.

It took an hour to make sure that everything was packed away, their usual gear left in carefully labelled tubs for replacement when they returned. All the bins were left off to the sides of the bay, directly across from the compartments the objects were from.

By noon, and after eating lunch, they were on their way for the 2.5-hour drive from Austin to Houston. The TX-71 highway wasn’t too busy for it being a Sunday but going down to the I-10 was a nightmare, a pair of accidents outside of Columbus slowing the traffic down to a crawl. They made it though, pulling into the hotel parking lot by 4 o’clock and parking in the spaces available among other first response vehicles from around the state.

“Normally, the Medals I am about to hand to the families of these six men and women would be going to members of our Armed Forces, of which only Lieutenant Kain Weston of the United States Air Force and the Expedition 62 Second Flight Engineer would qualify, but due to their actions in holding out as long as they could to warn the people of Texas and the Southern states, they have shown exemplary bravery and courage, so to each of the Astronauts of Expedition 62 I award the Lone Star Medal of Valor.”

The Governor of Texas stepped down from the podium, calmly walking across the auditorium floor to stand before the families of the six astronauts.

“For Commander Tom Scanlon.” One of the medals was handed to Melissa Scanlon, the woman biting her lip as she took it before dipping her head, crouching down to show Evie when she tugged at her dress.

“For First Flight Engineer Jennifer Riva.” The second medal was handed to Jennifer Riva’s wife, Cleopatra, who stood firm in her Navy Dress Blues, unblinking as she received her wife’s medal.

“For Second Flight Engineer Lieutenant Kain Weston.” Korey Weston, Kain’s brother couldn’t take it, his hands shaking too much to hold it, so Korey’s wife Nina reached around him and took the medal, holding it firmly in her hands.

“For Third Flight Engineer David McLaine.” David’s husband Martin had his hands full with their six-month-old son, but David’s sister Ione took the medal for him, clutching blue fabric and silver in her hands.

“For Fourth Flight Engineer Anika Ruiz.” Anika’s cousin, Deni, standing in for Anika’s husband who was working on a deep water drilling platform and couldn’t be missed, took the medal, wrapping the band around the medallion before pressing it against her chest, staring straight ahead.

“For Fifth Flight Engineer Elijah Thomas.” Jane and Paul Thomas, Elijah’s parents, took the medal from the Governor, Mrs. Thomas quietly sobbing as she took the medal.

The speaker returned to the podium, waiting a moment before speaking. “There is one more thing before we move on to the cemetery. If those from Austin could please rise.”

Grace rose first, the others following her lead. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, picking up the manilla envelope with her gift to Melissa Scanlon. Quietly, she stepped out of the row and made her way down to the front where the speaker had taken a handheld microphone and moved down. TK, Paul, Carlos, Michelle, and Owen also had manilla envelopes in their hands and they followed her down the aisle to the front of the auditorium.

“Mrs. Scanlon, my name is Grace Ryder,” Grace started, running her fingers over the edge of the envelope. “I was rerouted your husband’s final call.”

“Yes, I remember you,” Melissa rasped, hands on Evie’s shoulders.

“I know you may not want it,” Grace told her, tapping the envelope, “But in this envelope is a copy of that final recording, along with a few other things.”

“I—” Melissa swallowed harshly, reaching out for the envelope, and taking it from Grace when it was held out to her. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Grace replied, offering a hug to both Melissa and Evie.

“On behalf of Firehouse one-two-six, and the City of Austin, we offer this tribute.” As soon as Owen had finished speaking, as if they’d practiced it, the others handed over their envelopes to the families of those lost.

It was the contents of the envelope that finally broke through Cleopatra’s strength. Tears in her eyes, she pressed one hand to her face, wiping her face to give Owen a watery smile. “Thank you.”

As she stepped out of her military rest to hug the man, the picture in her hand was revealed to everyone else. The professional photo of the mural outside the 126 was a thing of beauty. Along the bottom fourth of the wall was what had to be the Earth with a stylized 126 inside in bright greens and blues, then from the Earth it became space, in dark blue but covered in stars and other bursts of color. A silhouette of the international space station hovered above the earth to the right with a halo of gold that at first glance looked like a single perfect brush stroke but was actually each astronauts’ name in Lukas’ careful calligraphy. To the left, a moon and distant sun, tiny dates around the edges, the dates of the beginning for the Expedition as well as the date of their deaths.

Owen smiled, wiping his own face. “You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  ****  
> [Personal Tumblr](http://thirteenredvampirebites.tumblr.com) / [Writing Tumblr](http://crimsonswolfden.tumblr.com/) / [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Nightworldlove) / [My Writing Blog](https://kate-lee-shadows.blogspot.ca/) / Email: thirteenredangels@hotmail.com  
> ***Tumblr may not work. Just a warning.***  
> 


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